


Man of the Hour

by frigidfinesse



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Klaine, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frigidfinesse/pseuds/frigidfinesse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of "Me Before You" by Jojo Moyes. Kurt Hummel craved freedom. His life working at the bakery wasn't the most ideal and adventurous life to live. Kurt Hummel decided he needed another job, and fast. After gaining an interview for caretaker of Blaine Anderson, who suffered severe meningitis after being hit by a motorcycle two years previous, his life is changed indefinitely. Kurt didn't know if this was a good change, or a bad change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Kurt Hummel Got the Job

"Would I be able to take this home? To eat later?" The elderly woman spoke up to Kurt. Kurt Hummel, being the most polite employee at the not-so-shabby bakery, nodded wholeheartedly. "I'll grab you a bag, Mrs. Pillsbury." Kurt then hurried to the area behind the register, grabbing a bag and quickly jogging back over to the table Mrs. Pillsbury sat at. It wasn't that Kurt hated his job, they just didn't pay enough for him to plaster on a dull-witted smile whenever a customer was rash towards him after someone like Finn or Noah made a tiny mistake with their dessert. The bakery was evidently a work in progress. The woman smiled at him and then uneasily stood up. 

"Kurt, help the woman," Will cracked a smile at Mrs. Pillsbury jokingly. Mrs. Pillsbury was the mother of a very sheltered Emma Pillsbury, who came in once in a while to pick up a mince pie or two for her mother when she couldn't bare a walk down to the bakery. Will has had an undying love for Emma ever since she first waltzed into the shop, but he would never admit that aloud. Kurt laughed weakly and gingerly gripped the woman's arm and thereafter put a supportive hand behind her back, leading her to the door easily. She warmly grinned at Kurt as she turned away and hobbled down the streets of Lima, Ohio. 

Kurt shut the door behind her and sighed, his misery quickly interrupted with the ringing of that stupid bell. He jumped at the loud sound the bell created, and shook his head at Will. "I told Quinn to get rid of that thing. We don't need it!" Will chuckled smugly and fixed his apron, "We sort of do." Will Schuester was a forty-something failed actor. He spent his days working the shop, and Kurt admired him for the way he held himself, like he hadn't given up. "All it does is make my day ten times worse than it already is. I actually think I want to hang myself every time I hear that bell." Will just shook his head in response. 

Rachel Berry, Kurt's other co-worker, blazed into the shop straight after, disrupting any calm setting there had ever been in the building. The shop and its employees were a bunch of drama queens, which made a lot of Kurt's work days entertaining, but not so much easier. The bell rung furiously at her arrival. Kurt turned to greet her immediately, met with a frown and a mascara-stained face. "Didn't get the part?" He frowned at her dismay. Rachel nodded solemnly, another tear of defeat falling down her face. 

Kurt wrapped an arm around her in an awkward hug, but ended up being pushed away as she stormed off. Kurt felt as if he should've been offended, but he couldn't really care less in that moment. Kurt shook it off quickly and walked over to the bakery's window, looking out at the road and his transportation from here to home: his bike. He still rode a bike from home to work at age twenty-six. Kurt was saving up for a car, and that's why he volunteered himself eight hours every other day at the bakery. As he looked over, moving his gaze from the window to the display, Finn set a freshly baked tray of cupcakes down on the counter and looked over to where Rachel sat, a pouty expression being worn while she scrolled through Facebook. 

Kurt rolled his eyes dramatically and maneuvered his gaze towards the clock. He realized his shift was almost over, so he decided to clean up a bit of Finn's mess before leaving his apron on the rack. Kurt walked around Mercedes, and avoided a seemingly angry Tina. Kurt was not in the mood for drama as of now. He needed another job. Kurt evidently didn't want to quit working at the bakery, but it was just an amount of time before he realized the bakery was not paying him enough to survive and that he needed something else. 

Kurt still lived with his family. He felt ashamed of it, only because he just wanted freedom and independence like so many others his age have. After he deemed the kitchen 'clean enough' he yelled a "good bye!" to everyone and hopped on his bike to ride home. The wind blew through his hair and rain fell, causing him to develop goosebumps on his arms (which were uncovered because he stupidly wore a short-sleeved shirt to work). He sighed heavily as he was near soaked when he arrived home. His father, Burt Hummel, was waiting at the door for him, as usual. Kurt brought his bike to the right side of the house and leant it on the wall, running to the front door for some kind of shelter. Burt quickly opened the door and let him inside. 

"Hey," Kurt greeted unenthusiastically. 

"You sound ecstatic, kid," Burt chuckled heartily and sat himself on the living room sofa. 

"I need better work conditions!" Kurt yelled into a pillow as he sat down next to Burt. 

"I say quit the bakery and babysit," Burt took his cap from his head and set it on the coffee table in front of them. 

Kurt shrugged depressingly. He hated his life currently, even though he decides to make the best of it at the bakery. He simply couldn't stand half the kids who worked at the bakery. They were all a bunch of misfits who thought they were all edgy and needed funding for college. Kurt didn't know what he wanted to do. Did he have aspirations? Sort of. 

"Maybe I should go to Jackie tomorrow," Kurt threw out the idea. Jackie was fairly nice and a very straightforward person. Kurt was glad Jackie and his dad were good friends, as he didn't have to manually find an agent or anyone in general to lend him job concepts. That sounded quite selfish, but it was only the truth. Kurt didn't have the time or energy to go and find a well-paying job. Hopefully Jackie would give him her all. 

"That's a good idea, kiddo. If you wanted to get a better job, Jackie can probably help you find something," Burt heaved a weak sigh and fixed the cap on his head. Burt was supportive of anything his son ever did. When Kurt told his father he was gay, Burt reacted in the best way. It seemed as if you just supported your kid in whatever decisions they made, the easier your life would be. It did depend on the choice, obviously. If only all parents thought that way. 

Kurt nodded into the pillow. God, he just wanted to sleep for eternity. He couldn't take working at the bakery much longer. He knew he made it sound like hell, and he sometimes regretted it, because he did have good times there, but he simply didn't need all the stress in his life then. Then again, isn't that what jobs are about? Maybe he wouldn't quit. After a while, Kurt lifted his head from the pillow and stood up, walking towards his bedroom. Tomorrow would be a better day. If Jackie could find him something, he'd be forever grateful to her. 

Kurt slept peacefully, his dreams only consisting of happy memories and wishing his mother was still alive, but not in the sad way. He missed coloring with her — mind you, he was eight when she died — and also missed dancing with her in their kitchen while his mother cooked dinner and Kurt was assigned to be her 'special helper'. Kurt sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he reluctantly woke up the next morning. He had no clue as to what he was going to wear today, for he was too tired to pick anything out the night previous. Kurt didn't want to overwhelm Jackie, but he also didn't want to tone himself down for her. 

Kurt knew that at the talk with Jackie and interview for whichever job he chooses he needed to wear professional 'boy clothes', which he hated because although his fashion sense was a little "out there" he liked the way he dressed, and was content with how he looked. Not that it all really mattered, because he just needed a job. Kurt rolled off of his bed and swiftly picked out what he was going to wear. He continued his early morning routines with a few questioning looks from Carole and Finn, but couldn't allow himself to feel any motivation towards explaining where he was going to them. 

As he jogged out of his house, it struck him that a bike was not the most professional way to get to a job agency, or a job in general. He was going to have to use a bike to get to wherever he needed to be for his newly established job, but he didn't really want to think about it then. The icy cold morning air sent shivers up Kurt's spine. He groaned as he realized it was the middle of June and it should not be cold in Ohio. He shook his head and called for his dad inside. 

Burt ended up driving him to the office building like the good father he was, and told Kurt as he was out of the shop for today, he'd wait for him in the lot. Kurt nervously nodded and practically hopped out of the car and skipped into the building. He had seen Jackie only once before, but he would never forget that hair. It was almost a bush on top of her head, but somehow, she managed to look gorgeous in it. Jackie sat, with her enormous head of hair, in the lounge, a briefcase in hand, most likely waiting for Kurt to arrive. 

How did he greet her? Did he just randomly go up and say "hey, I'm your client, sort of?" No. He decided he should just tap her shoulder and say "hey, I'm Burt Hummel's son. Kurt Hummel, nice to meet you." That sounded good enough. Maybe that was too sophisticated. After all, he was probably going to end up with some sort of babysitting job. 

He ended up winging it and strode almost over-confidently to where she sat. Conveniently, she turned to face him as he walked over to her and smiled. "Hello, I'm uh — Kurt Hummel. Nice to um — meet you." 

What the fuck was that? 

Kurt internally groaned at himself as the woman chuckled at his errors. "I'm Jackie Smith. We've met before." Kurt smiled politely, recoiling at how awful this was already going before following Jackie to her desk. The rest of the meeting went formally. Jackie asked him questions to be able to place him somewhere, and in the intervals between questions, she would type something into her computer, as if she was recording some kind of data. Kurt didn't question her, because he knew Jackie knew exactly what she was doing. 

"I don't think there's anything...." She mumbled quietly, more to herself than to Kurt. "There has to be something!" Kurt exasperatedly whisper-yelled. "Jackie, I'll do anything." Jackie nodded and scrolled, typed some more, and finally allowed a smirk to settle on her face. Kurt wanted to ask her if she had found anything, but she spoke just before he was going to open his mouth. 

"There's a job pending for caretaker?" She locked her eyes with his. Kurt felt as if this was some test to see if he was a good person or not, so he shook his head 'yes' to indicate she could keep speaking. "Blaine Anderson, victim of severe meningitis....was hit by a motorcycle as of two years ago...mother needs caretaker..." Jackie read out of the job's file. Kurt didn't know whether to let his heart ache for the man who suffered, or to let himself get excited over the guaranteed interview. 

"I'll email the mother to tell her you're up for an interview?" Jackie eyed Kurt momentarily. Kurt nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes of course." Jackie handed him a slip of paper and a pen after he responded, "Just put your personal number or home number down so Mrs. Anderson knows how to reach you as well as to let you know when the interview will take place." Kurt scribbled his number down in the neatest way he could and smiled gratefully at Jackie. "Thank you," Kurt grinned a little wider as he stood up and walked out of the building, Jackie shaking her head with a tiny smile on her own face. 

"Jackie totally loves me, by the way." Kurt blabbed on and on about the confrontation with the agent over dinner with Carole, Burt, and Finn. "I may actually get a caretaker job! I think I'd make a good nurse." The three of them nodded in excitement for Kurt. The three had no doubts in their minds that Kurt would be a great nurse. Finn expressed his main concern: that Kurt would be leaving the bakery. Kurt immediately shrugged it off and told Finn he was thinking about it. He ate some more as Carole spoke about her day, and with content, tried his best to think about how the interview would hopefully go. 

—

Mrs. Anderson had called Kurt right after dinner the night beforehand, and told Kurt he could come in first thing Thursday. She said he should be there at exactly ten, and to be ready for a lot of personal, and not personal questions. By 'there' Mrs. Anderson meant her and Blaine's home, which was apparently only shared with Blaine's brother Cooper when he was home from wherever he went off to. Kurt prepared himself, and picked out his outfit immediately after she had called. It was hard to choose, only because he knew he had to tone it down from his regular bright and colorful choices. 

When Thursday came, Kurt was more ready than he believed he could ever be. He left his house at 9:20 — he had decided to just ride his bike to the Anderson's — and got to the Anderson's by exactly 9:55. Kurt supposed being five minutes early didn't really matter, so he strode towards the door and pressed the doorbell. Kurt only waited after pressing the bell for a few seconds, however, as someone came to open the door.

There stood a woman with insanely curly hair, a lot of eyeshadow caked onto her face, and as many wrinkles on her face as there were freckles (and there were a lot of freckles dotting her cheeks and forehead). Kurt put a hand out to greet her, which she accepted gratefully. "Good morning, Mrs. Anderson. I'm Kurt Hummel." Mrs. Anderson smiled delightedly and ushered him inside. "Lovely! Come on in, Mr. Hummel." Kurt stepped inside, and resisted the urge to let his jaw drop at how huge the house was. He didn't stare too much, not wanting to make it seem as if he himself was poor —in which he most certainly was, and a house like this almost made him tremble with excitement —and allowed himself to be lead through the house by Mrs. Anderson. 

Mrs. Anderson — or Camilla, as she told him to call her — lead him into a tiny lounging area. The sofa couches looked Victorian, like they were almost too good for him to sit on. He was intimidated by this house more than he thought he'd be. He sat down vaguely uneasily, and allowed himself to get slightly comfortable by letting his hand touch the armrest. 

"So, Mr. Hummel, do you have any aspirations? Anything you want to achieve in life at all?" 

Kurt felt his chest tighten. He was not expecting that. "Well, um — n-nothing that I'm really thinking about right now. I work at a bakery, and it's sort of nice?" 

She didn't bat an eyelash. "Give me a reason as to why I should hire you compared to the rest of the candidates, Mr. Hummel." 

"I'm... Well..." The rest of his answer came out as a lot of 'um' and 'I guess?' Mrs. Anderson was for sure not pleased. "You cannot give me one reason why I should hire you, Mr. Hummel?" 

Kurt's brain was in full panic mode. "N-No! I'm... Well, I'm a good cook! I can read, I'm uh — I can sing! I always sing to my customers, it seems to get them in a better mood."  

Mrs. Anderson seemed taken aback by the yelling which Kurt had only resorted to to get his point across, but composed herself swiftly. "You've got the job, if you definitely want it." Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was going to take care of someone! "Yes! Yes, I want the job." Kurt felt excitement flood his veins. He just hoped he was as good at taking care of a human being as Kurt believed he was. 

"Perfect. Would you like to meet my son?" Kurt nodded hesitantly, his nerves spiking and his throat drying. What if this Blaine didn't like him? What if he just wanted Kurt to leave straight away? He wanted to scream as Mrs. Anderson lead him into yet another part of the house. There seemed to be a closed off area in this new part of the house, and Kurt obliged as she walk towards the closed off area. It was almost a room, but too oddly small to be so. Mrs. Anderson pushed a door open, and there was only a window placed in the wall and a wheelchair sat in the middle of the 'room'. 

There were a few basic mechanic sounds and the chair was turned around. There sat a scruffy-looking man whom seemed unamused by Kurt's entrance. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Blaine scanned Kurt. Kurt walked closer to him and let a real smile cover his face. "I'm Kurt Hummel, your new caretaker." Blaine seemed unamused by his polite greeting, too. He denied Kurt's hand and looked back over at his mother. "Great, my mother has acknowledged how much I just love being a charity case."  Kurt felt his eyes widen slightly and his grin faltered. He felt the dread and odd liking for the boy's hazel eyes creep up on him, and only then did he realize this was going to be a very, very eventful six months.


	2. How Kurt Hummel Screwed Up, And Sort Of Made Up For It?

Kurt let a tiny breath escape his mouth as he maneuvered his gaze over to Mrs Anderson, yet again. She nodded gravely and lead him out of the room without another word to Blaine. Maybe he was too enthusiastic? Wait, Blaine didn't have use of his hands, correct? Jackie had mentioned he suffered from severe meningitis. Kurt felt a frown and a blush take up his face as he realized what he had so stupidly forgotten. That was the worst introduction anyone could have ever witnessed — or been apart of, especially. 

Kurt caught up with Mrs. Anderson and kept his gaze on the floor now. He felt so ashamed of himself. Blaine now most likely had the idea that his new caretaker was mentally disabled, or just really dumb. "If you follow me a bit further towards the kitchen, you'll meet Sam Evans, Blaine's medicine handler and Doctor, if we aren't able to get him out of the house. You will both be spending a lot of time together throughout each work day, so I'm hoping for your sake, you can tolerate him." 

Kurt laughed weakly and nodded, another nervous tingle sparking inside his belly. It felt like they had been walking for eternity when Mrs. Anderson finally stopped him. Kurt finally lifted his gaze from the floor and looked up to see a blonde-haired boy with a kind smile and blue eyes. He didn't look intolerable, to say the least; though Kurt supposed most people who ended up being intolerable didn't look intolerable under first impression, either. 

Kurt waved politely and smiled. "Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel." 

"Sam Evans. You're the new caretaker, I'm guessing?" 

"That's me." Kurt tried to keep himself composed after all the self-hate he had to endure on the walk here. 

Mrs. Anderson pursed her lips and examined Kurt momentarily before looking back over at Sam. "Kurt, when Mr. Evans is not available or able to come to the house and give Blaine his medicine, you are to do it. He'll instruct you later. Also, please convince my son to shave and cut that goddamned hair of his! He looks like a caveman." 

Kurt and Sam chuckled as Mrs. Anderson shook her head. "I have to run out for a little while, but I'll see you both in a bit." Mrs. Anderson then turned on her heel and walked out of what was seemingly the kitchen belonging to the enormous house. Kurt wondered whether Blaine ever moved from that tiny room. His curiosity almost sent him into a daydream before Sam spoke up. 

"Have any questions? I know you must be at least sort of stoked for this job? Blaine's a good guy, you've just got to get to know him." Kurt nodded solemnly. He didn't think he'd ever get to know this Blaine. Blaine had seemed pretty set on avoiding Kurt at all costs already. He tried to think of a question, and then it hit him. 

"How does he move the chair? They said he's got no feeling from the neck down, right?" Kurt looked over at Sam, fumbling with one of Blaine's pill bottles in his hands. 

"He has little feeling in his fingers. He's apparently got just enough to move the chair around the house. All he has to do is press a button." 

Kurt nodded slowly. "Hm. Anyway, does he do therapy or anything of the sort?" 

Sam shook his head 'yes' in response. "I say there's no use in trying. He's never going to get any better." 

Kurt felt slightly taken aback at the negativity, but shrugged. "It's good to put faith in him though, I guess." 

Sam shrugged defeatedly and handed Kurt a paper that most definitely was his schedule. It was mainly therapy and not so much anything else. Blaine probably just sat in that tiny room, watching out the window, until therapy came around. That sounded so horribly depressing. Kurt sighed and drew a hand through his hair, trying to figure out strategies to get Blaine to like him. Why did Kurt care so much? He had only met him mere minutes ago, and now he had an entire six months to get Blaine to like him. They had to work together, Kurt and Blaine. Kurt knew this, though he was reluctant to admit it. He just wanted to storm out of the Anderson home yelling about how it wasn't worth the money, but he would restrain himself. He would help Blaine for the next six months, and hopefully, make them enjoyable. Kurt took his hands off of the marble counter and looked at Sam. 

"I think I'm going to try and talk to him again." 

"Good luck with that," Sam smiled encouragingly. Kurt had never felt more discouraged, actually. Sam's tone made it seem as if it was impossible to take Blaine from his shell. 

Kurt decided to try and find his way back to that room and started off down the hallway. He couldn't help but think about a few things on his way there: firstly, how did Blaine live like this? He must be super tolerant. Kurt simply couldn't imagine himself in Blaine's shoes. Kurt felt the sudden need to help him, and get to know him, possibly even convince him to let him get his hair cut and possibly help him shave his scruff. Kurt realized as of late, he'd always have these kinds of caretaker senses that act up whenever he sees a case of someone needing help. It was a good thing, he reassured himself. He didn't know that for sure, but whatever kept his paranoia quiet. 

Kurt looked up yet again, realizing he had finally found the room he visited very briefly only a half an hour beforehand. Slowly and very hesitantly, Kurt pulled the door open and stepped inside. "Hello," Kurt greeted for the second time to the back of Blaine's wheelchair. Only then did it strike him that Blaine really did need a hair cut. His scruff suited him, though. He supposed everyone needed a shave once in a while, but Blaine's appearance was enchanting, even though his mother was right in saying he looked like a caveman. 

Kurt decided he was just going to start talking, and prayed whatever came out of his mouth would hopefully make sense. "Look, I know this is tough, I get it. I'm here to help you, and I know you don't want help, that you're all humble; I get that vibe from you already, but I'm here to help you. I know I've said it twice, just listen. I know you aren't getting any better, and I know about your condition. Besides that, I was thinking. Maybe we could get to know each other a bit better? We're going to spend a lot of the next six months with each other, anyway." 

After Kurt finished speaking, silence rung in his ears. It took a while for Blaine to seemingly gather his words as he turned his chair towards Kurt. A monotone, slightly irritated expression covered his face. "And you know what vibe I get from you already, Hummel? You're chatty. Very, very chatty. It's actually quite annoying. You don't understand what I'm going through and you never will. God, I understand you want to help or whatever, but I know you're only in it for the money. My mother may not, but I do. So, if you wouldn't mind, keep your trap shut around me, please." 

Blaine closed his eyes tightly as he uttered the last sentence. He then pressed the button to move his chair back around to where it was previously positioned, and didn't speak another word to Kurt. Kurt stood, frozen to his spot, for a few moments before letting himself be offended. A boy he had hardly just met basically had told him to shut up and that he was only being nice to him for money. Yes, he supposed that was part of why he had taken this job, but he liked taking care of people. He'd get Blaine to believe him. 

Kurt composed himself before quietly muttering, "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. I — I'm sorry." He then scurried out of the room and walked down the hall, red-faced. Kurt could hardly believe that had just happened. He decided to go and try to make conversation with Sam, maybe read a book or two. He did bring "To Kill A Mockingbird" with him, just in case something like this occurred.

Once he got back into the kitchen, he moved his gaze up to Sam and shook his head. "No bueno," Kurt shrugged and sat back down on a surprisingly comfortable stool. Sam nodded, putting a supportive hand on Kurt's shoulder. Although Kurt wanted to angrily shrug him off, he had to admit, he felt slightly comforted by the gesture. 

"He's so stubborn! I try to offer him time to get to know each other, and he yells at me for being chatty! He can go-" 

Sam shushed him. "You'll regret saying whatever you wanted to say once you get to know him. I think you're determined; you'll get him to open up. Who knows what you're capable of?" 

Kurt shrugged again. How did Sam even know he was determined? Sam seemed only confident when he spoke. Did he just wear his heart on his sleeve, or was it just a kind of vibe he gave off? Kurt could honestly say he never thought of himself to come off that way, so he didn't know why Sam would. Sam then gave him a pat on the back before walking out of the kitchen; probably to give Blaine his medicine. Kurt bitterly grabbed "To Kill A Mockingbird" from his bag and opened the book to its first page. He allowed himself to get lost in it for a few hours, forgetting all about that stupid Blaine and his stupid stubborn self.

After a while, Kurt seemed to have fallen asleep on the counter without realizing. As of late he'd been overly exhausted with no reason whatsoever. Maybe he shouldn't stay up so late watching reruns of Project Runway, but he paid no mind to it as a coughing sound woke him up from his supposedly deep slumber. He groggily rubbed his eyes and looked in the direction the coughing had been coming from. Blaine sat right beside him, an amused expression plastered on his face. 

"You looked very uncomfortable," Blaine observed simply, "Plus, you're probably super bored. My apologies, anyway. There are tea bags in the top cabinet furthest to the left." With that, he zoomed away again on his noisy wheelchair. Kurt, bewildered by his polite tone, sleepily walked over to the cabinet. He pulled it open hesitantly, scared there would be some kind of dangerous creature hidden inside, but alas, an actual box full of tea bags sat in front of him. He grinned to himself tinily and grabbed the box from the cabinet, closing the door to the cabinet carefully, not wanting Blaine to know he begrudgingly accepted his offer. 

Kurt wondered if this was the bud of a blooming friendship. He didn't want to count on it just yet, because Blaine's hate speech earlier still had him on edge, but it was possible. As he set the cup of tea down on the counter, he heard a lock click, and a door open loudly. Kurt looked over to see Mrs. Anderson setting down bags from multiple stores in the strip mall downtown. A pit of guilt opened in his chest. Mrs. Anderson hadn't allowed him to freely roam through their cabinets for food. He just assumed, as he'd practically be living there during the day, he would be allowed to have something to eat or drink every once in a while. 

"S-Sorry Mrs. Anderson, Blaine told me I could make myself some?" Kurt said timidly as Mrs. Anderson looked from Kurt to the tea. Then, the woman simply smiled. Kurt wanted to cock an eyebrow, but he realized that would be impolite, especially in front of his new boss. Her smile got wider as she took her large sun hat off of her head and walked over to where Kurt stood, hugging him. Kurt felt himself straighten up in shock, but awkwardly patted her on the back after a few seconds. The reason behind the hug, Kurt couldn't think up, but he guessed he appreciated the gesture. 

"Thank you," Mrs. Anderson said warily after another few awkward seconds. Kurt nodded, thinking he needed a moment to just let this all sink in. "You can go now if you like. Your first day doesn't officially start until tomorrow morning, anyway. Be here by nine o'clock." Kurt let go of the woman almost immediately, straightening out the vest he decided to wear to the interview last night. It had been vastly wrinkled throughout the day, to Kurt's dismay. Mrs. Anderson then walked back over to where she had set down her bags and picked them up again, walking out of the kitchen swiftly. 

Kurt let an exasperated breath escape his mouth as he clenched the marble counter at a knuckle-white grip, shutting his eyes tightly. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to do this. Did he? After a moment, Kurt tried composing himself and grabbed his coat before following in suit of Mrs. Anderson and jogging towards the exit of the house. 

Kurt needed to be away from here as much as possible if he wanted to survive the next six months. He had only been there for about five hours with Blaine, and he had slowly almost lost a bit of his sanity. Maybe he was over exaggerating. He tended to do that a lot, even if it wasn't on purpose. He sat on his bike, huffing slightly as he began to ride home. 

It was nearly 3:30 as Kurt stumbled into his house. As he strode inside, the faint smell of something being cooked and an earsplitting sound of what seemed to be music entered Kurt's nose and ears. He then set down his bag and pressed his hands over his ears, muffling the noise only slightly. The music seemed to be coming from the garage, so Kurt ran to investigate. 

Firstly, something had been burning in the oven. Kurt decided Finn had tried to cook himself something again, and tiredly switched the oven off. "He's lucky he didn't burn the god damn house down." Finn being Finn, Kurt wasn't surprised Finn left the oven on as he went off to go do Finn things. Kurt shook his head as he walked towards the exit of the kitchen, and sighed as he scoped out his backyard. 

As soon as Kurt pushed the sliding glass door that the family generally used to exit the kitchen open, he knew exactly what was going on. Finn had been trying to play the guitar again. Kurt shook his head grumpily and jogged towards the garage, the feeling of dread coursing through him as he put in the code to provoke the garage's slow and painful opening. 

Kurt sat back as the front of the garage opened, eventually revealing Finn and a bunch of his high school pals. Kurt gave Finn an unamused look and, as soon as Finn saw Kurt's expression, he set the guitar down, putting his hands up in defense. Kurt smiled at the memory of what happened last time Finn hadn't listened to him when Kurt told him to put his guitar down. 

Kurt had entirely lost it. He remembered it as if it was yesterday. Not only had Finn not listened to Kurt when he told him to "keep it down or I'll smash that fucking guitar over your head, Finn Hudson", but he played louder. Finn didn't think he would actually do anything, but Kurt got so fed up he grabbed Finn's guitar from his hands and broke it over the wall. He then threw the remaining pieces down and stormed out of the garage. 

Carole didn't believe Finn then, when he told her about what Kurt had done, because sweet little Kurt could never do anything of the sort. Kurt gloated silently as he helped Finn's mother make their dinner that night, looking over at Finn every once in a while just to scare him. He milked all his power he had for that all-too-short period, until Finn got over it and bought a new guitar. Kurt couldn't believe his father agreed to letting him have one. Carole told everyone she was impartial, and Kurt couldn't believe his ears. 

"Thank you, Finny." Kurt used the ugly nickname he had heard Finn's mother use frequently on purpose, just to make Finn cringe and for his friends to threaten throwing eggs at Kurt again for "being so gay it hurts my eyes", if he quoted Noah Puckerman correctly. Kurt then turned on his heel and closed the hood to the garage again, trudging inside and collapsing on the same sofa he had as he angrily walked back from the bakery days previous. He pulled his phone out and decided he finally had plucked up the courage 'boyfriend' again. Technically, he wasn't even Kurt's boyfriend, as they had only gone out on a few dates, but Kurt liked to pretend he was his boyfriend. 

"Mm, Kurt? What's up?" Ryan nonchalantly spoke through the line. 

Kurt smiled lightly as he realized how much he loved hearing his name in Ryan's voice. "Not much. I wanted to know when you wanted our next date to be? If you wanted to go on another one, of course." Kurt hastily added the last part, because he knew Ryan wasn't rushing into a relationship. 

"Of course I do, yes. Tomorrow night, if you're available?" 

Kurt nodded and closed his eyes, "Sounds good. See you then." 

"See you then, babe." 

Kurt's eyes shot open at the pet name, his cheeks flaming. He quickly hung up and threw his phone to the ground. Kurt pressed his hands to his cheeks and after feeling how warm they were, shook his head at himself. He got attached to people so quickly, too quickly. He didn't really like how he did that, because it did seem stupid and naive, but his dad told him it was just because he had a big heart. 

Kurt decided he really needed to sleep if he didn't want to make Blaine overdose tomorrow, assuming Sam would probably want the day off with a new caretaker around. Kurt had been told there was an entire table printed onto the refrigerator, telling him when Blaine needed to take whichever medicine and how much. So, if he really wanted to work towards getting the enormous amount of money at the end of these six months, Kurt needed sleep, and maybe a bit of cutting down on the reruns of Project Runway he watched late into the night. 

A little nap at three in the afternoon didn't seem like a bad idea. He was glad he left the Anderson's when he could, otherwise he'd probably fall asleep on their counter again, and as Blaine observed, Kurt was not comfortable on that counter. He almost immediately turned over and closed his eyes happily, thinking about the eventful day he was going to inevitably face.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on ao3! I hope you all enjoy it somewhat. I love writing and this is going to be a very fun fic to write. Have a lovely day!


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